


Night Visitor

by girlintheglen



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is Napoleon Solo going crazy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Visitor

He was tied to the bed, no room to move and no hope of survival.  The man standing over him had appeared out of the mist and as he raised his gun to shoot every nerve in Napoleon’s body felt like electricity surging out of control.

He awoke with a scream, raw and agonizing.  To those watching, the sight was frightening; Napoleon Solo was never out of control.  Illya Kuryakin was bearing the brunt of this agonizing scene, his own sense of responsibility unguarded as he mentally chastised himself for not arriving sooner.

“Mr. Solo will need a few days before this concoction is fully out of his system.  It appears to be a combination of mental conditioning and drugs that have created a schizophrenic delusion concerning this assassin that he keeps dreaming of.” 

Dr. Schuller was the best in his field, and his sessions with Napoleon had yielded enough information to decipher the nature of his patient’s nightmares.  The threat of an assassin had been drilled into Napoleon’s unconscious state, supplemented with a mind altering drug that mimicked LSD, and was similarly not addictive. 

Illya listened, his mind absorbing the information while his emotions kicked at his sense of duty.  He had not been able to help his partner; his rescue had been too late.

“Mr. Kuryakin, I can see you mentally agonizing over this.  Trust me, you could have been there five days earlier and it would not have made a difference.  Mr. Solo was in that satrap for two weeks, and the process began immediately.’ Illya looked up, his eyes a steely grey beneath the furrowed brows. 

“I believe you were legitimately involved in the mission’s primary goal, that of rescuing the princess and returning her to her father.  You had no choice but to complete your mission.”

Illya turned his attention back to Napoleon.  Of course he had completed the mission; the girl was safe now and her father, the king, completely satisfied with UNCLE’s role in returning his daughter. 

But Napoleon... 

Alexander Waverly considered sending out his number two man on a mission while Mr. Solo recuperated from his unfortunate encounter with THRUSH.  He thought better of it however after speaking with Dr. Schuller.  Kuryakin’s state of mind was dangerously self-condemning, and that wasn’t someone to send into the field.  One false move due to his declining self-confidence could prove fatal, and an agent of Waverly’s would not be sacrificed like that.

Two weeks as acting CEA occupied Illya completely.  He visited Napoleon daily, watching as his partner slowly returned from the nightmare he had lived in for the past month.  The nightly vision of a mysterious assassin declined until finally a night passed without him waking up in terror.  He had daily sessions with Schuller, and shared at least one meal a day with Illya.  He was getting better. 

Illya appeared in Medical with one of Napoleon’s suits as well as all of the corresponding accessories.  He had gone to his friend’s apartment and gathered together everything on Napoleon’s list.  The doctor had pronounced Solo ready to leave Medical, with limited time in the office until he could be cleared to return to duty.  As Illya  waited in the elevator for his floor an alarm began to blare.  He was out and running, Napoleon’s clothes dropped into a heap.  In a flash of something like intuition he headed directly for Napoleon’s room.

Napoleon was facing his nemesis, the man in his dreams who had been stalking him in his sleep and now, as he looked into the gun, in reality. 

“Who are you, how did you get in here?”  Napoleon had no doubt that tHRUSH had planted the image of a real person, but explaining how he had infiltrated headquarters would require someone’s head most probably. 

Illya was running full force as he approached the door to Napoleon’s room. He slowed only enough to keep from hitting the wall instead of barging through the closed door.  The man with the gun tried to turn and shoot as the Russian blew through into the room, but instead he was flattened as Illya dove into him.  Napoleon snapped out of his paralyzing fear, settling it once and for all as he joined Illya in disarming the intruder.  Several Section III agents poured into the room, finishing the task of cuffing and removing who they would learn was named James Denbrow; a THRUSH goon whose entry into headquarters was arranged by a nurse on their payroll.  Another round of security checks would ensue after this debacle. 

“Napoleon, are you all right?”  Illya was panting, the race from the elevator and the struggle to contain Denbrow had left him slightly winded.  Napoleon sat on his bed and whistled low and long.  No wonder he’d kept on having the nightmares, he recognized the man now as an orderly who had made regular visits into his room. 

“Why did they do this?  What was the point of terrorizing me, and then sending him in here to... Geez Illya.  It would have completely demoralized the entire staff if he had ...”

‘’He didn’t succeed Napoleon.  All of that effort and you still come out of it as the victor.  I’d say that they will be the ones who are demoralized after such a huge failure.  I only wish...”

Napoleon stopped him.  He knew that Illya had been kicking himself for weeks over all of this business. 

“You saved my life, I owe you.” 

“No, it’s my job to keep you safe.  You’re my partner, I should have been able to do something before now.  I will be interrogating this man, I will...”

A new voice entered the conversation. 

“You will take Mr. Solo home and remain with him.   Is that clear Mr. Kuryakin?”  Alexander Waverly didn’t need his men carrying out any type of vindictive measures.  That wasn’t the way they did things.

“Yes sir, I just thought... I will be happy to do whatever you think is best... sir.” 

Napoleon’s suit was retrieved from the floor of the elevator car; he dressed and emerged from his room looking no worse for wear.  Illya was by his side as they rode the elevator down to reception, and then exited through the parking garage.  A driver was waiting for them, no need to fight traffic at this point. 

“So, shall we order in?  I could use a round of Chinese, or Italian.  Anything that isn’t hospital food for that matter.”  Illya smiled at that, even Napoleon needed a good meal once in a while. 

“We can call it in when we get to your apartment.’ Illya paused as he considered what he wanted to say next. 

“Napoleon, I did feel as though I failed you.  I know I finished the assignment, but you are my partner and if I can’t save you as well...” 

“I know.  I know.  We’re here, all in one piece.  There will always be the risk, always a bad guy waiting in the wings.  The best we can do is never give up, never quit trying. One of these days we might even beat them.”

Illya nodded, a sigh of relief that what Napoleon said was true, for both of them.  Battling evil was his job, saving his partner and keeping him alive was a calling. 

He didn’t think that would ever change.

 


End file.
